About Me: Audrey Wells
My friend, Norm Blacksher, a wise Old-Timer who proudly called himself an Oklahoma Okie once told me:
Life is a Three-Act Play with a piss-poor Third Act.
Some statements stick and this was one I’ve mulled on more than one occasion.
Now that I’ve been twisted, shaped, and bent to accept life’s unavoidable cues, I’m ready to step out of the wings and on to Centerstage for Act III.
And I’ll be goddamned if it’s going to be pissy or poor.
At least not if I can help it, ok?
ACT I: Audrey Beaky is my name and surviving childhood is my game.
My father, son of Czechlosovakian immigrants hailing from Emmaus, PA — met, wooed, and subsequently married his wife — a young Japanese woman, the only daughter in a family of seven brothers — while buying a roll of Scotch Tape from the BX in Yokota, Japan.
Charles was ruggedly handsome — his man-dimples carved sharply framing a dazzling smile — at once confident and charming in spite of any dark or stormy clouds hidden behind his eyes.
Hiroko was a looker. Stylish, sophisticated, and exotic. She was dutiful — her obligation as Only Sister to seven brothers demanded it — yet she found freedom and expression through fashion and design — her aura mysterious, unfamiliar, and for the young buck from steel-mill-country — irresistible.
They met. They courted. They married.
And Hiroko was freed from her role as Sister-Hen to her Seven-Samurai brothers by being banished from her family in Kyushu, Japan altogether — an exile without an expiration date. That is until I was born.
So I guess that makes me a Love Child but it didn’t always feel that way.